


Strategic Action Plan

by fleete



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Comment Fic, Drunkenness, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:03:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleete/pseuds/fleete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s been such a long time since I’ve rimmed someone,” Donna says wistfully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategic Action Plan

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mskatej](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskatej/gifts).



> This fic includes rimming with no barrier method, so technically unprotected sex.
> 
> Written for mskatej for my Valentine's Meme. <3
> 
> Thanks to thatotherperv for the awesome beta!

“It’s been such a long time since I’ve rimmed someone,” Donna says wistfully.

Mike chokes on his drink. Donna thumps him on the back with obliging, if excessive, force.

“What—”

“Oh, are we not to that stage of drunkeness yet? I thought were talking about our sex lives.”

She waves over the bartender and orders them another round of cocktails. Donna has very specific rules about which liquors must be drunk at which point in the night in order prolong the buzz and avoid the plunge, and so Mike ceded drink choices to her at least three hours ago. Maybe there’s something to her mixology, though, because Mike feels _good_. He’s all buzzing pleasant drunk and has been for what feels like hours.

“We were talking about crazy places we’ve done it, not crazy places we like to _do_ ,” he says, waggling a pointed finger at her.

Donna grins. “Okay, one, we’ve got to work on your liquor tolerance. Your witty comebacks are getting worse and worse. And two.” She braces her elbows on the table and leans close enough to Mike that he can feel her breath on his face. “ I don’t even know what to do with you if you consider rimming crazy.”

“Well—”

“I just really _like_ it, you know?” she says. Her face goes contemplative and earnest. “Giving it, especially. I like spreading a guy open; I like digging my fingernails into his ass, getting my tongue in there and having him squeeze around it—oh that’s the best part, how he can kind of pull on your tongue with his ass, and it makes your mouth fill with spit, and then it just gets _messy_ , you know?”

Well, the whiskey might have affected Mike’s comebacks, but it’s not affecting his dick. He crosses his legs. Donna is staring at him, waiting seriously for an answer. As if Mike has valuable thoughts to share on the subject of rimming.

“You’re drunk,” he says helplessly.

The side of her mouth goes up, and she nods slowly. “Yes. Obviously. So are you. Stay on topic, Michael. Rimming. Whaddya think?”

“Um. It’s fine?”

“Honey.” Donna slaps his hand. Or maybe she’d meant to just touch his hand; she seems surprised, too. Donna refocuses on Mike’s face. “If it’s ‘fine,’ they’re not doing it right.”

Mike nods and nods. “I believe you,” he says, because he does. Donna knows everything.

“Okay.” Donna returns his nod, and then several things happen very fast, and they include Donna paying for drinks, Donna leading him by the elbow through the lounge, and Donna hailing a cab.

“So here’s the plan,” Donna says when they’re on their way. She’d given the driver her address, not Mike’s, and Mike had said nothing. He thinks that maybe he’s about to get laid . “We are going to go to my apartment and drink some water and you can either fall asleep on my couch, or you can bend over and let me eat out your ass until you beg for me to stop. Both options are good. Both options involve us going to work on Monday and being amicable coworkers for ever more, and,” she pokes him sharply in the chest, “Both options entail never saying a word, ever, to our mutual boss.”

“Or to Rachel,” Mike says, and Donna agrees with a decisive jerk of her chin. They stare at each other for a beat before facing front again.

*

Mike feels significantly more sober by the time they get inside Donna’s apartment. At the edges of his mind lurk several perfectly valid reasons why this is a bad idea, but the rest of his mind is centered right around his dick and the word _messy_ in Donna’s throatiest slur.

“Drink,” Donna says, setting a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him. She’s kicked off her heels and suit jacket.

They settle next to each other on her couch to drink their water. Her skirt rides up high, and Mike dares to run his fingers along the hem of the skirt where it bites into her skin.

“Do you mind if I use your shower?” he asks, finally, looking up at her.

Donna looks like she, too, has been reconsidering the merits of this undertaking. Maybe they need a counterproposal.

“How about, I take a shower, and if you want to join me, you can, and if you don’t, we’ll go to sleep, like you said.”

Her mouth quirks. “You’re adorable,” she says, but her gaze is piercing, contemplative. She points behind him. “First door to your left.”

Mike smiles, and in case she’s decided that this is the end of night, he darts in and kisses her cheek. Donna smiles back at him.

He leaves the door to the bathroom cracked, though, in case she decides it _isn’t_ the end of the night. The water pressure is fucking amazing, and he lets it beat his scalp and shoulders for a long time. He feels awake, more clear-headed than when left he bar, but the way the water and his hands and his hard-on seem to blend together in his brain tells him he’s still drunk.

Donna doesn’t seem to be joining him.

He lets the water run longer than he should, scrubs soap into his ass, lets his fingers linger there and imagines what it would have been like. It’s probably for the best really.

He’s jacking off with the hand that isn’t reaching behind him, and it’s starting to get really good when he hears,

“Oh come on, don’t finish before we’ve even gotten started.”

Mike jumps in a possibly undignified way and yanks the curtain back. Donna’s sitting on the counter in just her skirt and bra, a fluffy bath towel folded in her lap.

“You surprised me.”

She grins. “Yeah. I brought you a towel.” She offers it, and Mike smiles big, can’t help but laugh a little, because. Wow. Donna’s tits look amazing, and she’s letting him look at them, and they are _so_ going to have sex in the near future.

He accepts the towel and dries off. Usually he’s pretty secure about his body, but the way Donna is biting her lip and cocking her head to admire him makes him want to blush. Donna could probably make anyone blush, though. Mike makes a mental note to ask her if she’s ever accomplished it with Harvey.

“C’mere,” she says, taking pity on him, so he steps into the cradle of her spread knees.

Kissing Donna is, unsurprisingly, a very wet and dirty endeavor; she takes control of the kiss almost immediately and cupping the back of his neck with a squeeze. He’s leaning down into her, hands on her thighs, but she obviously wants to top him tonight, and you know what? That sounds good to Mike.

They kiss for a while, and Donna’s knees inch up his sides, tilting her hips up towards him, and he’s pulled her close and started grinding when she pushes him away and tsks.

“Didn’t we come here with a purpose?”

“It doesn’t matter to me what we do,” Mike says honestly.

“It does to me. Turn around and put your hands on that towel rack.”

Mike laughs, but he does, girding himself as he does it and trying to appear natural, but the thing he feels next is Donna pressed up against her back. Her breasts touch his back, her legs brush his legs, her stomach moves against his ass. She rakes her fingers up and down his torso touching his nipples and spanning his hipbones and skirting his dick.

She takes her time before she works down to kneeling between his legs.

He tries not to react or shift or to show his nerves in any way, but he must do something, because Donna’s still breathing hot on his crack when she palms down his thigh and whispers, “Shhhh. I’m really good at this.”

She puts her hands on his ass cheeks and spreads him, just looking at him for a few long seconds, and it’s so weird to feel cool air on his hole, and he’s hoping he cleaned himself well enough, and then suddenly Donna blows on him—just air, but it makes him bounces on the balls of his feet and breathe fast. He can feel his asshole squeeze at the sensation. Donna murmurs approvingly.

And then there’s the first touch - too dry, it must be her lips - oh god, she’s kissing his hole. He can’t help it, his thighs and ass flex, and he feels his hole move against her lips, almost like he’s kissing her with it, and she kisses _back_ , spreading him wider with her fingers. She alternates between kissing and blowing for long seconds, and on the first lick, he moans out loud.

“There you go,” she croons and then starts licking in earnest.

It’s the same sort of faux-patronizing thing she always says to him, but there’s something about that tone of voice in this context that makes him feel kinda weird.

“Are we—” He pauses to breathe deep when she does some kind of twisty-swirly tongue motion. “Are you gonna—” Fuck, he doesn’t know how to ask this question.

“Am I gonna what?” Her fingers travel closer to where her tongue is, and she pushes teasingly against his hole. “Go inside?”

“No,” he says and then “ _Yeah_ ” when she starts pressing harder with both tongue and finger—just enough that he feels like he’s gonna open up, and god, his dick his hard. He drops a hand to brush against himself, but Donna digs her nails briefly into the muscle of his ass.

“Hands on the bar,” she says, and when he obeys, she rewards him by pointing her tongue and pressing inside for one glorious moment, cupping his balls in a warm, dry palm, before she withdraws totally, stands up.

“What?” he asks dazedly.

“Bedroom!” she announces brightly and tugs on his elbow. Her voice is as controlled as ever, but she’s got a red flush working down her neck and breasts, and her _mouth_ —it looks obscene, open and wet. “Mama wants to get off, too. What were you asking me?”

Mike lets himself be led. “Okay _that_. Are we doing some kind of mommy kink? Because I don’t know if that’s my thing.”

She laughs. “It is exactly your thing. When Harvey pulls out the good boy’s, you go all gooey. Lay down on your stomach.”

“I do _not_ — and can we not talk about Harvey right now ?”

“And secondly,” she continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “It isn’t a mommy kink. It’s an _us_ kink.”

Mike has no idea what that means, but— wow, this is a nice mattress. He stretches out, cat-like, and decides he doesn’t care. Donna’s digging through a drawer and comes out with what is unmistakeably a vibrator, but not one like Mike has ever seen.

“Trust you to have a designer sex toy,” he says. It’s silver and black and probably very expensive, and Donna barely pauses to smile before slipping it under her skirt and inside, if the look on her face is anything to go by.

“I wanna see,” Mike says immediately.

She obligingly kneels on the bed and lets Mike look as she pump it in and out a few times and finally jabs a button and makes it vibrate and whir. He likes her crisply groomed pubic hair, how it’s darker than her hair but still with a red tint to it. He cranes his neck, and she lets him lick her clit with an appreciative moan.

But then she pulls away again and thumps his head. “Put a pillow under your hips.”

“I wanna fuck you,” he whines, but does as she says.

“I know. But that’s not the plan.” She trails a finger down his crack, and he’s embarrassed when his hips lift toward it.

And then Donna settles in-between his legs and starts up again: long licks and sucks and blows, and yes, it’s amazing, but—

“But we already did that,” he manages, huffing a laugh when she tickles his side.

“We didn’t do _half_ of that,” she retorts and she works a finger in and tongues around the rim, and Mike gives up trying to talk her into something else, because apparently she was right about this being more than “nice.”

He feels motion behind him and realizes that Donna is rocking her hips, moving around the vibrator inside her, and then she starts moaning into his ass.

“I’m going to come first,” she says, punctuating this by spitting twice onto her fingers and working two back inside, not fucking him with them, but just flexing them in a persistent grind, “and then you’re going to come, with my tongue and fingers inside your ass, and I’m not going to touch your cock. You’ll just have to hump your little pillow .”

Mike lets out a frustrated growl, because he really doesn’t think he can, but it feels too good. If she wants to keep going, he’s not stopping her.

“I want to see you come,” Mike says instead of arguing.

“Turn over then.” So he does, and he has to draw up his knees so that she can keep going, but it’s good, because he can see her hips moving and the shudders in her shoulders and the muscles in her arms, and her nose is pressed firmly into his balls.

When she comes, she lets out a low, pleased noise into his ass, and shudders from head to toe, but she doesn’t stop. Mike curses and arches, because he really, really wants to come, and his balls feel tight and his cock feels too heavy and hot against his belly. “Please,” he says. “I really can’t—”

But Donna just presses more insistently against his prostate and sucks his balls into her mouth.

“God-fucking-damnit, oh my—”

His orgasm feels weird, like it’s coming down through his gut and rippling into his thighs, but it’s still beyond doubt one of the most intense he’s had, and when Donna grabs his cock half way through it and starts stroking, it feels like it starts over—a new wave of pleasure crashing over him

He’s actually shaking a little bit, he’s embarrassed to find. He lays there, blinking at the ceiling, while Donna murmurs endearments and smoothes warm hands up and down his flanks. Little aftershocks of orgasm make his gut clench and release .

“Wow,” he croaks.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

“I mean, really, wow.”

Donna’s face appears in his field of vision. “You look like you just got your brains fucked out,” she says proudly. Her lips are bright, lurid red, and her chin shiny.

“So do you,” he says smiling.

They clean up side-by-side in the bathroom, Donna swishing mouthwash while Mike turns on the shower, and then they shower together, and Mike gets to kiss her and play with her breasts.

But once Donna has wrapped herself in a towel and sashayed into her bedroom, Mike has a moment of doubt. Does she want him to follow her? Or should he sleep on the couch? Maybe he should leave so that they don’t have any morning-after weirdness. 

“Time for bed,” Donna says firmly, appearing in the bathroom doorway. She grabs his hand and tugs him forward.

“I could sleep on the couch if you want.”

Donna rolls her eyes. They’re both moving slowly, lethargically, and by the time Mike’s head hits the pillow next to her, he falls straight to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> [This is Donna's vibrator](http://www.lelo.com/index.php?collectionName=insignia-luxe&groupName=ISLA), for the record. I maybe spent significant time considering what brand of toy Donna would own. :)


End file.
